The World Revolves And We Follow
by Tatsumaki-sama
Summary: Hancock experienced the changes she had to face as a slave. She didn't have to like it, but it was the way things are now.


**Disclaimer:** I don't own One Piece or any of its characters.

**The World Revolves And We Follow****  
**

For the first few days, Hancock rebelled and fought.

She was savage, violent and cruel. Anyone who tried to come near her was met with either a flurry of pummeling fists or biting teeth. Words were useless and only but a rushing sound to her ears. Even when they locked her up in her room, she raged and stormed, tearing everything in the room to pieces. And when they came to get her, she lashed out, kicking and spitting.

They slapped her for screaming, chained her for running, whipped her for biting. But it was in vain. She refused to be tied down, refused to be stopped. She was a whirlwind of emotions: fear, confusion, agitation, conflict, worry and most importantly, rage.

Rage for being locked up. Rage for being separated from her sisters. Rage for being taken here against her will. Rage for being a slave.

Her master gave her a first warning and she spat in his face. The second warning was starving her for a week and she only threw the bowl of soup into his face when she finally received food. The third warning was threatening to hunt down anyone who was kind to her and kill them in front of her. She only laughed and replied that she would kill him before he even gave the order.

But as the days crawled by, she began to realize that her fire was slowly, reluctantly dying down. When he gave her the first warning, he meant for her to listen and obey or else he would truly go on his word to break everything left in her spirit. The more they starved her, it was only for so long that she could hold on to that strength, that facade that she wasn't hungry, that her mouth didn't water when they temptingly waved the bread in front of her. The more they threatened everyone around her, the more she realized they weren't bluffing and she had no one who showed even the slightest kindness to her.

Soon, she couldn't take anymore of the pain, the torture, the loneliness, and finally cried out after her latest whipping for them to stop.

Soon, she bowed submissively to her master, breath harsh in the air, ears pounding ruthlessly against her skull, quietly begging him for food, hating herself for breaking down and the way her stomach traitorously revolted against her.

Soon, she pitifully crawled towards her looming master, his smirk as greasy as her dirty hair, and desperately pleaded with him to leave the one servant who slipped a little extra bread for her alone, flinching at the servant's pained cries and her tears.

She didn't have to like it, but it was the way things are now.

-

-

For the first few weeks, Hancock prowled her prison like a wild cat, glaring so often at the castle's magnificent walls that imprisoned her there.

She watched and waited for every window, passage and doorway that might lead to her escape. When she sat quietly in the corner, when they thought she was being well-behaved for once, her eyes were constantly moving, taking everything in, hungrily using it all to her advantage.

The guards she watched. The servants she watched. Her master she watched. She watched them all, preparing for her chance to slip past them and run.

She was so close the first time she tried to do it. She managed to steal a knife at dinner, slipping underneath her shirt. She would later use it to unlock her door. But when she'd only gotten as far as to the hallway, a little, sickeningly adorable puppy started barking playfully at her. She tried to hush it, even kick it for all it was worth. But in the end, one of the guards spotted her and heartlessly dragged her back to her room. Her master deliberately asked her about the bruises across her face the next morning.

They placed two guards by her door the following day. So, what she did next was gather every piece of cloth in the room (or if not, steal whatever she could carry), bind it up and flung out the window. It wavered and buckled like a banner before drooping silently to the stone wall. Thrumming in excitement, she began her climb down the window. Only to find that her rope wasn't long enough. And even if she made it to the bottom in one piece, there was no escape from the steep cliff that abruptly dropped to the murky ocean and her sharp rocks below. Reluctantly, she climbed back up to her window.

She soon noticed there was always someone to follow her, watching her every move. One false move and her master would be alerted. She would be punished and they would be awarded. There were a few times she tried to appeal to them, begged them to help her escape. But they either cruelly laughed in her face or walked away without a word.

The cold walls became a constant, friendly sight to her now, after all this time. Those that trailed after her, she became accustomed to them, like they were a second shadow to her. She barely noticed them anymore. And she learned long ago that no amount of pleading or crying would work on them. Better to save the last scrapes of her dignity than to be laughed and mocked by them.

She didn't have to like it, but it was the way things are now.

-

-

For the first few months, Hancock tried to to avoid her master.

He was demanding and impatient, snapping orders for her to come to him. And she wouldn't have any choice. She would come, head bowed and face set, unless she preferred a whipping or worse.

But that didn't mean she wanted to come to his room, where it smelled of sickly sweet perfumes and the heavy fumes of alcohol. She hated that room the most, where she was always kept close to him, nearby to attend and await on his every need. Sometimes, he would be a lot closer than he normally was, an arm snaking across her shoulders, his breath hot against her neck, his lips bending dangerously close towards her mouth ...

One day, her master managed to acquire one of the Devil Fruits. To his great amusement and to her horror, he wanted her to eat it. She refused quietly. She already knew that yelling and cursing won't get her anywhere. But in the end, her master made her sit in front of him, strong hands gripping her arms, knees forced into a bow, as if begging for forgiveness. In her defiance, she bit her tongue, clamped her teeth together, pressed her lips so tightly together that it was but a thin line.

But eventually, little by little, he yanked her lips free and pried her mouth opened. Tears steamed down her face in her despair, but he took no notice, too fascinated with shoving chunks of the Devil fruit through her mouth. Each swallow burned her throat. Each mouthful made her want to gag. By the time all of the fruit was given to her, she was too exhausted and in pain to even whimper. Her master on the other hand ordered her to stand and reveal what new power she had now.

They then discovered she had the Mero Mero no Mi, much to her disgust. Having it only made her master want her more. Night after night, he called for her and she would reluctantly come. During parties and celebrations, to entertain him and his friends, she was summoned. Throughout the day, she was always by his side now, never leaving, never sent away, never hated by him. She was his favourite, his crowned jewel, he once called her.

She didn't have to like it, but it was the way things are now.

-

-

For the first few years, Hancock did everything she could to find her sisters.

They were her world, everything in it. Even if she managed to escape, even if she managed to return home, it would be nothing if her sisters weren't there with her.

She secretly questioned about them, pretending to be interested in other, nonessential things while really trying to gather every scrape of information about her sisters. She frivolously asked about anyone who came from the Calm Belt. She causally inquired of other slaves that might match the descriptions of her sisters. She was cautious and cunning enough to act high and mighty, like the lives of her brethren or other slaves mean nothing to her, so she wouldn't attract any attention to herself.

Eventually, she found them. Both Sandersonia and Marigold were slaves to other World Nobles, located on different districts of Sabaody Archipelago. And to her horror, she discovered that they were also forced to eat Devil Fruits like her. Hot tears pricked the corners of her eyes and she angrily blinked them away. She wouldn't show weakness. She had to strong and cruel to survive. It was the only way to survive in this place.

One day, her master arranged a meeting with his uncle and cousin. As his trophy, she was made to come. When they arrived at Sabaody Archipelago, she contemplated escaping and finding her sisters here. But the collar still strapped around her throat would stop her if she tried to run.

She recognized them as soon as she saw them. Sandersonia was bowing her head, trying to stray as far as she could from her master. Marigold was staring straight ahead, but her mouth was set in a hard line. She saw how their heads raised instantly the moment she was mentioned and how they screamed for her, fighting at their chains as their masters roared at them. In her joy and relief, she almost stepped forward, wanting to reach out to her sisters, hold them, make sure they were real, that they were all right.

Her master's hand suddenly gripped her arm rather tightly. In amusement, perhaps even malice, her master asked her if she knew them.

Already, she knew what her master was capable of, what he would do to her sisters if he ever found out. She didn't intend to give him another form of dominance over her. Either way, this was only a cruel game to him.

Forcing herself to not look at her sisters, she replied in a cool voice that she didn't, they must be mistaking her for someone else. It broke her heart when Marigold gasped and how Sandersonia looked like she could cry. She didn't say a word for the rest of the meeting without sparing them the briefest of glances, knowing her master was watching her carefully. She - all three of them - couldn't afford being caught.

Even as they left, she didn't even acknowledging her sisters at all, walking right by them, head held high, ignoring Sandersonia's sniffs and the way Marigold's eyes became glassy.

She didn't have to like it, but it was the way things are now.


End file.
